Arnon Grunberg - Tirza

He opened the garden doors, he took her to the darkness of the garden, although it actually was too cold without jacket to go outside, but he hoped that they are red eyes would not see.

'Dus so I must do so,' she said, when they finally were motionless on the grass. The wet grass.

'If you must do it,' he replied, his head swiveled away something of her, gazing to the barn and the trees, the houses of the 'Willemsparkweg'.

'But why are the guys than fear for me?'

Somewhere on the opposite side were in a room the lights dimmed, a child room probably. The voorleesuur was in order.

And still half of its turned away he said: 'because they think that you are unreachable. As soon as they have broken they will no longer afraid of you.'

She went on her toes. She whispered in the ear of her father: 'I am Tirza and I love you.'

Ship's steward at the bank next to Lady Veldkamp, which is already the whole evening has not betrayed, and for the umpteenth time he also wonders where Tirza remains, why not just call. It is wise, indeed no longer a child, adult. More mature than many of its peers, there will certainly be a good reason for its late arrival. Perhaps it is time for you to passé own party to appear. He knows no longer so sure what is and what is not passé, actually, he never knew that.

Also he looks at lady Field Camp. The kir seems to seduce her, she is working on its fifth glass. She smiles at him, he smiles back and then he observes the partiers as a general his troops. There is not a deficit. The orders are already recorded. For the security he said: 'beer and wine you can also become suits in the kitchen.' nobody will with an empty glass. No one will be unfortunate this evening.

Ibi is still next to lady field camp on the bench. But they do not say anything more. It is sitting there are quite simply, as they often formerly sat, withdrew, closed, actually already left, perhaps it was never really had been decided as a child that they are not involved in this family wanted to hear. That they just do not match. Probably she thinks to its Inn, her husband, her boyfriend, how you want to call the man in any case about who wish to remain silent and ship's steward There are things about which you are not speaking. You resigned, but talk, no.

Also, almost in passing, lady Veldkamp Hofmeesters, only to attract his attention. 'Mewe snobbish," she says.

'What?'

'Die dancing people. The children.'

'Yes,' says ship's steward. 'Very nice.' But rather he had the wife is not dance. And certainly not tonight. With all these children that hungry around her.

Then Ibi abruptly and starts to dance also, wild and exuberant, as if they were in the jungle is, in a place where no one can see her, where they have only is and the shame has no function. Shame the other necessary. 'Do you because you think that the other looks, because you look that the other wéét.

It is ten hours. Even a few seconds to stare at the ship's steward Ibi are, like fathers do that, boatyard and proud, though there to him a unfounded fear at. In his children find their own fear, in the meetings with his posterity who fear to life, in everything he recognizes them himself to his control from dictatorship. He finds that his daughters to bad and sloppy on the life has prepared. They complain about him speechless, his children make him who he is and who he is — he must face — is unbearable.

Someone is running the music harder, the wife saves during the dancing its arms to the boy, the boy who sometimes has a snack meegegeten. Still is a ship's steward not on its name. He goes to the kitchen and serves a glass of wine.

If the glass is empty, call he Tirza. Her voice mail. "Hi, this is Tirza. I am also not. But let but a nice message.'

'Sweetheart,' he speaks of 'Your party is in full swing. Almost everyone is now. You really should. It is a stunning celebration.'

The voordeurbel. The weather is not Tirza. It is Mrs Of Excavating, its old class teacher. He also speaks with her about general affairs, politics, a novel of a Belgian of whom he has never heard.

Then walk in the garden ship's steward.

The torches burning even. Yes, that he has done well, they burn through.

He is going to the barn in. Between the machine and the rake the saw he leans to the wood. He says something, but he itself can not understand. Only after a few moments he realizes that the order repeats that he is a minute or so ago and if he has included this is ready, if he is satisfied that he is nothing forgotten, that his memory works, calls it up to him by that he still does not know what a hedge fund. The economy has not teacher should be able to explain, no one has to be able to interpret it. The hedge fund remains a mystery. More than three years after the disappearance of his hedge fund he still know not what exactly has disappeared.

With both hands and rubs his newly shaved cheeks. He remembers that the wife is said to him: 'Fuck', when he had asked: 'What do you want in God's name? The guests come so.' He thinks of the balcony doors in the bedroom, he remembers the evening that they stood on the sidewalk with its suitcase, not so very long ago, but it seems like a different life. As he remains are hands against his cheeks are printed, its memory filled with something called a misunderstanding.

After a few minutes he calls itself to the order. There is a festival. There is a host. There is no pain. Pain is fiction, the most in any case. Who has pain must concentrate, until he feel nothing more. With a broken leg is going to be difficult, that is true. But he has not broken leg. Nothing he has broken.

Someone opens the door of the barn, but he can not see who.

He are staring and are staring by the semi-dark, than he recognizes the girl that tomato juice has ordered.

'The Celebration is within,' he says more unfriendly than intended. 'This is the sanding.'

She seems to act as a deterrent. She had definitely no man expected, only old crap, silence. But she recovers rapidly. It may also be that they followed him. That they are not at all shocked of his presence. That he was the person who an unfounded fear felt.

'And what are you doing here than?'

'I? I get the same breath. Also some fresh air.' He pants as a bad actor with sounds are words should be emphasized. 'I could not find the tomato juice. He must be somewhere. But I could not find him.'

From his mouth, in this barn, on this evening, sounds like a statement for a full life, for the absence of many, for the absence of happiness. The tomato juice was not found.

'I drink something else.'

She has the door of the barn is left open. He looks at her flip-flops, to its jeans from below is coiled a few times. Perhaps it is the fashion, he thinks it is a funny face. Than he recalls its name: Ester. Without h.

It is reminiscent of Tirza him. Even without h.

'Are you a good friend of Tirza?'

'Not really.'

He is off the wall against which he was leaning so enjoyable. He has to go back to the party. We need him. His daughter is probably already arrived.

'I am really a girlfriend of her.'

The father is looking leery toward the girl. What is it doing on this celebration? What do they here? This is an evening for the friends and girlfriends of Tirza, not for wild boar roaming. Not for people who want to free drink because the their tastes better when there was nothing they have to pay for it.

He puts one hand on the mower. Another father had he want to be, which he means: a better father. When it became apparent that there was not for him to in Excel, he had chosen for the fatherhood. To ensure that children are reflective and critical to the world would look. What is intelligence other than the critical distance which itself and the things? They should not take are children, everything had to be called into question. On nothing else than the intelligence of confidence, that he had learned their. He had the intelligence to the rank of God. The god who would make everything. And now he has the urgent feeling that he something about the main has seen, that the critical eye which he and his daughters forced the world has to be seen on the fundamental questions does not answer. The own intelligence as god leaves much uncut. The white spots are numerous. The god will not be possible, the god has no answer.